But I won’t be bought. Not for this or anything else.
Moving past the living room, I take Jake on an impromptu tour of the first floor of our house, pretending to check that the doors and windows are all locked. Even in the Gulch, nobody would bother trying to steal from us. Even with Vin’s upgrades, there isn’t anything in this house worth the effort.
I hesitate when we get back to the entryway, unsure of precisely what he wants from me.
And even if I were willing to speak, I probably still wouldn’t ask him because I’m not sure I want the answer.
Jake leans against the wall next to a floating shelf full of worthless knickknacks: pottery projects Zion and I made in middle school and some pieces of raw quartz we found in the backyard. Unlike the entryway of Cortland Manor, there are no pictures of Milbourne ancestors hanging on the walls. Anything of value got sold off generations ago, and we’d lost possession of anything sentimental that wouldn’t be refused by the pawn shop. There used to be a few pictures of Zion and I with our mother, but Grandpa had us take them down after she left because the reminder made him angry.
She didn’t just leave her children without so much as a goodbye, but her father too.
Just like me, she stayed in Deception until she couldn’t take it anymore and had to run away. I’ll probably never know why she didn’t take us with her.
A few years back, I’d tried searching for her online. I used to think the only way she wouldn’t come back is if she couldn’t. She obviously never left a forwarding address, but Google searches for her name always came up empty. I checked the obituaries of neighboring counties and ran a database search for death certificates, but nothing ever came of it.
If my mother is still alive, she has no interest in being found.
I shouldn’t miss her, not after the mess she left for me to clean up, but I still do.
Even when I’ve lost all respect for her.
Perhaps sensing my unease, Jake doesn’t try to go upstairs. But he does shift closer, eating up the small amount of personal space separating us.
“You look really pretty tonight. Your hair looks great.” He pushes a gentle hand into my hair, fingers teasing at the painstakingly straightened strands. Without my hours of effort, his fingers would have caught in my curls. “I’m glad you decided to come with me to the Founder’s Ball. I had fun, even with all that shit from Cortland. He really knows how to ruin a good time.”
When he lowers his head to kiss me, all I want to do is push him away. The churn of emotion at the pit of my belly feels like physical sickness. I turn my head so his lips brush across my cheek, and even that small touch leaves me feeling cold.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, realizing my hands on his shoulders are forceful enough to keep some space between us. “Are you okay?”
If I could explain it to him, I would.
It isn’t an unwillingness to speak that makes that impossible, there just aren’t words to accurately describe the turmoil of my thoughts. But instead I just shake my head and gesture at the door.
“You want me to leave?” He sounds incredulous.
I try to smile in apology, even as I nod and gesture again toward the door. I have no idea what I’m apologizing for, but he doesn’t even notice.
His eyes have narrowed. “Seriously?”
Grandpa coughs in his sleep, and the oxygen tank hooked up to him to makes a sort of wheezing sound that echoes off the walls. Jake seems to remember where he is. He backs up a step, but glares down at me.
“Is this because of fucking Cortland? I knew there was something weird going on between the two of you.”
I shake my head in sharp negation. I’m not lying to him, but I haven’t determined yet if I’m lying to myself. Like always, Vin manages to sneak into moments that shouldn’t have anything to do with him. But this is about me and Jake, about how continuing to lead him on would be cruel when there isn’t anywhere for the two of us to go together.
“You know what, screw this. I don’t know why I’m bothering. You’re just a fucking tease.”
With an angry curse, Jake pushes past me.
I don’t watch him leave.
The door slams hard enough that I wince. If it hadn’t just been repaired, that would have been enough to break it.
I stay standing there for another few minutes, just staring at nothing in the darkness, trying to decide if I’ve made a terrible mistake by letting him walk away.
A tease is someone who acts like it’s a yes, but then still says no.
And I don’t say anything at all.
But that’s boys for you. They worry so much about whether or not a girl will say no, when all girls can think about is whether or not they’ll listen when we do.
The screech of tires peeling out on the street feels like a nice counterpoint to the night. Jake won’t be back, not now that I’ve ripped away the last few shreds of pride he managed to hang onto.
His reaction is what I deserve.
I check on Grandpa one last time, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes more easily than he has in years. I wonder how much all of this equipment costs, if paying for it myself would even be within the realm of possibility.
My new phone is lit up on the desk upstairs. The dress I’m wearing obviously doesn’t have pockets, and I’m so unused to carrying a phone that it didn’t occur to take it with me to the Founder’s Ball. Amelia and Zion
